Two weeks in NOLA for the mardi gras 2017

Early in 1909, a group of laborers who had organized a club named 'The Tramps' went to the Pythian Theater to see a musical comedy performed by the Smart Set. The comedy included a skit entitled, 'There Never Was and Never Will Be a King Like Me,' about the Zulu Tribe.

That is how Zulu began, as the many stories go...

Years of extensive research by Zulu's staff of historians seem to indicate that Zulu's beginning was much more complicated than that. The earliest signs of organization came from the fact that the majority of these men belonged to a Benevolent Aid Society. Benevolent Societies were the first forms of insurance in the Black community where, for a small amount of dues, members received financial help when sick or financial aid when burying deceased members.

Conversations and interviews with older members also indicate that in that era the city was divided into wards, and each ward had its own group or 'Club.' The Tramps were one such group. After seeing the skit, they retired to their meeting place (a room in the rear of a restaurant/bar in the 1100 block of Perdido Street), and emerged as Zulus. This group was probably made up of members from the Tramps, the Benevolent Aid Society and other ward-based groups.

While the 'Group' marched in Mardi Gras as early as 1901, their first appearance as Zulus came in 1909, with William Story as King.

The group wore raggedy pants, and had a Jubilee-singing quartet in front of and behind King Story. His costume of 'lard can' crown and 'banana stalk' scepter has been well-documented. The Kings following William Story (William Crawford - 1910, Peter Williams - 1912, and Henry Harris - 1914) were similarly attired.

1915 heralded the first use of floats, constructed on a spring wagon, using dry good boxes. The float was decorated with palmetto leaves and moss and carried four Dukes along with the King. That humble beginning gave rise to the lavish floats we see in the Zulu parade today.

Zulu's 2017 Mardi Gras theme is 'Stop the Violence'

Harper's Weekly May 19, 1906

The Human Drama at San Francisco

The Long Day

The Eighteenth of April in San Francisco

by Cecil Chard

“It is extraordinary how cheerfully we are all accepting the inevitable. Millionaires, shop girls, day laborers, Chinamen — we stand and receive rations. For the time being, we are at city of beggars, but food is plentiful, and now we are able to procure drinking water.” —from the author’s letter

Morning

We had been to the opera the night before to hear Caruso and Fremstad in “Carmen”. The audience was a brilliant one, the Grand Opera House crowded to the roof. We saw familiar faces everywhere and smiled in greeting, with a careless assurance of seeing them all again, on the morrow perhaps. After the opera, we went to the Palm Garden of the Palace Hotel, and lingered over our ices, comparing Fremstad to Calve, with a deep earnestness which we waste upon immaterial things. Then we strolled homeward through the silent streets, commenting on the quiet, star lit beauty of the night, and finally we dropped to sleep with the haunting measures of Bizet’s music in our ears.

There was no beginning to the tragedy. Peaceful slumber was exchanged, by a process too swift for thought, for chaos. One instance of rigid suspense, the struggle of a dreamer in the grip of a horrible nightmare, and then a leap to consciousness, the fierce realization of danger. A thunderous roar is in the ears, so deafening that it is hard to distinguish the crash of furniture, the fall of pictures from the wall; there is a sickening duration of motion, walls, floor, ceiling rock and sway. Everything that a moment before had been inert and motionless is suddenly possessed with hideous life. Books are flying forward from the shelves, plaster fills the air, the chandeliers twist and drop, a piano moves across a wide space with a jingle of notes. In every familiar objects is the threat of death. Fear is the only sensation left in the universe that wheels and shakes like a storm tossed vessel. And escape to the street seems for a moment beyond the wildest hope! Over fallen furniture we go, bare feet cut by splintered glass, hammering at doors that resist, to the rooms from which the best beloved must be dragged, half fainting or paralyzed with fright – and down, down, out of the house.

To gain the street is only to encounter new perils. Here, too, instantaneous terror springs to life. A dreadful grimace controls the familiar faces of the little world we know. Safety is nowhere. It is raining bricks and chimneys, the towers of St. Dominic’s are swaying against the high blue of the sky. The next Instant the air is thick with the dust of flying fragments. We see is each other and run, blindly, madly, but the ground under our feet rises up, the great paving blocks sink – a little low building to which we would go for shelter slides back a foot. Three blocks away, up the steep hills, is a public park, and here at last we pause and take a refuge, a crowd of panic stricken, breathless, speechless people. We wait for a few minutes and unspeakable dread for what may come next. Renewed shock sends us higher up, and at last we relax and stand trembling in the chill morning air.

As in all instances even have terrible tragedy, the moment is not without its humor, grotesque and grim. People have sprung from their beds, they have seized anything in their wild flight; they stand in excited groups as unconscious as children of their remarkable appearance. One woman has had the sleeve of her night dress torn from her shoulder, her feet are bare, she describes her experiences to a group of men. She is quite evidently a woman of refinement, her gestures are quiet, her voice is sweet, she is quite self-possessed. We stand close together, a group of absolute strangers, and smile at each other in attempted courage, with stiff lips. The world stands still again, all that is left of that familiar world, but all sense of security is gone.

From the high hill on which we stand we can see the splendid city stretching to the foothills, and we try to reassure ourselves but sick despair grips us. The sky is dun-colored, and through a pile of smoke and dust the sun burns red.

The city looks like a besieged town, shattered by shot and shell. Is that the dome of City Hall we see, hanging like a birdcage over the fallen walls. What has happened to that row of houses one street below us? Their brick foundations are cracked in every direction, the empty window frames sling crookedly against beams that have snapped off short. Here are a roof has fallen in, there the side of a house hangs into the street; a flight of granite steps stands far out into the sidewalk, the door to which they once led has sunk 5 feet below. The spaces between the houses is a tangle of twisted wires of tipsy telegraph poles.

And what a strange light is everywhere – sunlight through a yellow haze, a heavy mist. – And below us – is it mist or steam that rises thick and curiously dark as from a huge cauldron. Now the sun is obscured, the distance is blotted out, and the black mist moves, rises – something leaps up, shines like a sword blade. From someone in our little crowd comes one word in an awed whisper: “Fire!”

Noon

The morning has gone, somehow the interminable hours have dragged away. The air is stifling, the heat intense, but, mercifully, there is no wind. At the merest breath of air we shudder and turn our eyes to the curtain of smoke that hangs across the sky and hides from us the extent of our misfortune. Nevertheless, realization of the magnitude of the disaster deepens from hour to hour. We know that the fire rages in twenty places, that men are fighting it desperately without the water for which we already thirst.

With every moment some new peril is revealed. The live wires of the trolley lines have dropped into the street, there is a penetrating odor of escaping gas. A man clatters by on horseback, shouting: “martial law has been declared – the regulars are out; light no fires in the houses – by order of General Funston.”

From the first hour there has been no water. There is a run on bakers and groceries for provisions — bread — candles, tinned meet, soda water. The men serve their customers on floors swimming with oil, tomato catsup, wine, and broken glass. They do not ask exorbitant prices. In many cases they give without demanding payment. Instances of extortion are rare except for conveyances with which to remove invalids and household effects from the region of greatest danger.

It is incredible with what swiftness rumors become facts, and still time creeps along on leaden feet, though occurrences multiply and the experiences of a lifetime are crowded into an hour. We have eaten nothing since the night before, but we know no sensation of hunger. The fate of those who are nearest and dearest is still shrouded in darkness. There is no way to discover it – we are cut off from the world!

When from time to time a smoke-blackened figure approaches it is only to report further calamity. This or that public building is gone, one street after another destroyed; now the fire has engulfed a whole section. Soldiers and firemen, millionaires and thieves are fighting desperately. Every now and then there is a terrific explosion. They are blowing up whole blocks with dynamite in the vain hope of saving the city.

The most extraordinary factor in this unprecedented experience is a general calmness, the self-control exhibited. Perhaps the earthquake has exhausted her powers of sensation. Faces show the strain, but there is no complaint. The lesson has been too soul-searching in it’s effect. All have learned the value of mere possessions. They strive to save them instinctively, but failing, they hear with entire composure, that fortune, home, factory, offices, have been swept away. The streets grow more and more crowded as the fire drives the refugees to the hills. A never ending stream of vehicles passes, motors flash by, carriages, express wagons, undertakers’ wagons, and ice carts laden with people and their hastily snatched belongings rumble on. It is pitiable to see solitary old women tottering along under loads that would not tax the strength of a child. Women in opera cloaks drag trunks along the earthquake torn pavements. Bands of Chinese, dazed and helpless, drift along aimlessly. It is incredible what foolish things people have seized and still cling too. It is related that in the fall of the Emporium, a huge structure on Market Street, a man was only held back by force from the blazing ruins. He struggled in the arms of his captors, protesting that he had lost his hat, that he must find his hat. One woman has a large birdcage from which the birds have flown. Whole families pass, in one instance a pet donkey is being led along, free from burden, while even the child in arms clutches a handkerchief of treasures.

The unfortunate have lost their wits. The ring of the ambulance bells and the toot of the automobiles that have been impressed into the service of the Red Cross hardly scatter the crowds, that move on, talking, gesticulating, in wildest excitement. There is little to be done, but that little is accomplished with immense risk and difficulty. Every nerve, every sense is strained for the latest word from those who return, like exhausted soldiers from the front. When will this refuge be declared unsafe, when will we be compelled to move on. The stories that are whispered in low tones, so that the general multitude may not be made more anxious, are harrowing. Stories of women wandering into the ruins, clasping dead children in their arms, of men gone mad, a fireman crushed, of sick and wounded crushed under falling walls, stories of soldiers who have exceeded their orders, of unfortunate civilians who, upon a refusal to leave their treasures, have been shot. They tell, too, of the swift retribution that overtakes those who, under the cover of the prevailing excitement, attempt to rob, to loot, or even to touch the possessions of others. In one place the bodies of a thieves lie where the bullets have dropped them.

And as the sun sank slowly in the west the huge clouds of smoke that all day had obscured the scene, changed to rose color, and, in the reversal of all things, the day that had been darkened by the smoke was exchanged gradually for the wild illumination of the night.

Night

The terraced hillside park had the look of a bivouac. Nondescript shelters, made of blankets, of tablecloths, spread on broom sticks, of women’s opera wraps, of valuable Indian rugs protected those who were fortunate enough to have them. Many had covers and pillows, those who had nothing lay on the ground, or on the broad stone steps along the park walkways. There was not a murmur to be heard, only a child wailed loudly for a forgotten doll. Speculation, even, had given way to a stoical indifference. People spoke little, in low tones. The stillness was acute. Overawed by the terrible magnificence of the spectacle being enacted in the east and along the whole plain to the southern horizon, it was, strangely enough, possible for one to think, to form plans, even to hope– while the work of wholesale annihilation went on.

Nature now and then indulges in pure melodrama. A sea of liquid fire lay beneath us, the sky above it seemed to burn at white heat, deepening into gold, into orange, spreading into a fierce glare. The smoke and gathered into one gigantic cloud that hung motionless, sharply outlined against a vast field of exquisite starry blue. The streets were caverns of darkness, but here in there, from the impenetrable gloom, three or four houses seem to start out, like an illuminated card every cornice, every window shining with reflected blaze.

And as the night advanced it grew cold, and men and women walked up and down between the lines of sleepers, stretching their stiff limbs. Even at midnight, the attempt to sleep was abandoned. Eyes, bloodshot, with weariness and the pain from the constant rain of cinders, tried to turn away from the fire, but it held them with dreadful fascination. How it slipped in and out, flowing like a river, engulfing here a church, there a block of houses! A steeple, flaring high like a torch, toppled and fell in a shower of sparks. The strong square of an office building, black one instant against that ever moving stream of fire, flush the next, shot through and through with flame.

The fire burned on and destroyed and blackened, but it kindled a flame that illuminated the Western world —the spark of a generous kindness that lives in the hearts of the multitude. This is been fanned into a fire at which the victims of this great disaster may find warmth and renewed courage. Hope remains and an undaunted spirit. The eyes that have watched ceaselessly through the night look out over a field of desolation, and, without flinching, face the dawn of another day.

Caption (Original Description)

Sons of agricultural day laborer after washing up for dinner, near Webber Falls, Muskogee County, Oklahoma

Photographer

Russell Lee

Created

June 1939

Location

Muskogee, Oklahoma

Library of Congress photo.

The three granite slabs come from the "Great Road" of the National Socialist Reich Party grounds in Nuremberg. They were treated by forced laborers and prisoners in concentration camps and are speaking witnesses.

Die drei Granitplatten stammen von der "Großen Straße" des Nationalsozialistischen Reichsparteigeländes in Nürnberg. Sie wurden von Zwangsarbeitern und Gefangenen in Konzentrationslagern bearbeitet und sind sprechende Zeugen.

Academic High School (Vienna)

(Pictures you can see by clicking on the link at the end of page!)

Beethovenplatz

school form - general secondary school (high school humanistic)

Founded in 1553

♁ coordinates 48 ° 12 '5 " N, 16 ° 22 ' 34" OKoordinaten : 48 ° 12 '5 " N, 16 ° 22' 34" E | |

Support public

About 610 students (4 April 2010)

About 60 teachers (4 April 2010)

Website www.akg -wien.at

The Academic Gymnasium in Vienna was founded in 1553 and is the oldest high school in Vienna. The school orientation is humanistic and compared with other traditional high schools of the city rather liberal. The current number of students is about 610 students, divided on 24 classes.

History

16th and 17th Century

At the time of the foundation of the high school, the University of Vienna had the privilege to decide about the estabilishment of educational institutions. In March of 1553, the Jesuits received permission from the university to the founding of the Academic Gymnasium.

The primary objectives of the exclusively Jesuit teaching corps was the provision of religious instruction, the practice of the Catholic faith and the strengthening of the religious attitude of the students. The Academic Gymnasium was located at the time of its inception in the Dominican monastery opposite the then university. The former language was Latin.

18th and 19 Century

The dissolution of the Jesuit order in 1773 by Pope Clement XIV led to a conversion of the teaching staff and educational goals. The new focus was on history, mathematics, German, literature and geography. The management of the school was transferred to the Piarist. Subsequently the school was somewhat cosmopolitan conducted and the spirit of the Enlightenment prevailed both among teachers and among the students. Likewise, new didactic and educational measures, and later the school fees were introduced.

As a result of high school reform in 1849, the eight-year school with the final matriculation examination was developed. The humanistic aspects crystallized out more and more, the focus of the lesson were mainly linguistic-historical, mathematical and scientific aspects not being neglected. The first high school graduates made ​​their final exams at the end of the school year 1850 /51.

Academic High School before the vaulting of the Vienna River (Wienfluß - as small as possible)

Since 1866 the building of the Academic Gymnasium is located on Beethoven place in the first district of Vienna. It was built by Friedrich von Schmidt, who also designed the City Hall, in his typical neo-Gothic style.

The first students (female ones) gratuated in 1886 and 1887 (every year an external student), since the school year 1896/97 there were almost every year high school graduates, a general admission of girls there since 1949 /50.

20th Century

The years following the First World War were extremely distressing for the high school, because there was a very narrow escape for not being closed, the cause was a sharp decline in students. The educational institution was menaced from losing its good reputation and attractiveness.

GuentherZ 2007-02-22 2707 Wr Akad Gym plaque Jewish students and Lehrer.jpg

After the "Anschluss" of Austria in 1938, the Jewish students had to leave the school, they were 28 April 1938 transfered, some of the students but had logged off before this date. The total loss amounted to nearly 50 percent of the students because the school from all Viennese schools was attended most of all of children of Jewish families. Today, several plaques remember on the outer facade of the high school the transfer and the horrors of Nazism. A known victim of that action was the future Nobel laureate Walter Kohn, he had to leave school in the 5th class.

Wolfgang Wolfring (1925-2001) popularized ​​the high school from 1960 as the site of classical Greek drama performances in ancient Greek original language. Annually took place performances of the classical Greek dramatic literature, among them, King Oedipus, Oedipus at Colonus and Philoctetes of Sophocles, the Oresteia of Aeschylus and The Trojan Women and Alcestis of Euripides. Protagonists of these performances were later Lawyers Josef and Eduard Wegrostek, Liliana Nelska, Doris Dornetshuber, Gerhard Tötschinger, but also in smaller roles Gabriel Barylli, Paulus Manker, Konstantin Schenk and others.

Over the years the school acquired the old reputation back and enjoyed high access rates. More and more emphasis has been placed on humanistic education, which has been demonstrated mainly by the wide range of languages​​, school theater performances at a high level and numerous musical events of the school choir the public in general as well.

21th Century

The focus are still on a broad linguistic foundation, which also includes training in languages ​​such as Latin or Greek. The school offers both French and English from the first grade. The other of the two languages ​​begins as early as the 2nd class.

In addition to this a wide range of projects are organized and voluntary activities offered. The goal of the Academic Gymnasium is the general education, which in turn should prepare for a subsequent university study.

One problem is the shortage of space of the school. Since there's a large demand for school places, the school house for financial reasons and such the monument preservation not expandable, not for all admission solicitors school places are available.

Known students and graduates

The Academic High School has produced a large number of public figures in its history:

Birth year before 1800

Ignaz Franz Castelli (1781-1862), writer

Wilhelm Ritter von Haidinger (1795-1871), geologist

Stanislaus Kostka (1550-1568), Catholic saint

Leopold Kupelwieser (1796-1862), painter

Joseph Othmar Rauscher (1797-1875), Archbishop of Vienna

Franz Schubert (1797-1828), Composer

Johann Carl Smirsch (1793-1869), painter

Birth year 1800-1849

Alexander Freiherr von Bach (1813-1893), lawyer and politician

Moritz Benedikt (1835-1920), a neurologist

Nikolaus Dumba (1830-1900), industrialist and art patron

Franz Serafin Exner (1802-1853), philosopher

Cajetan Felder (1814-1894), Mayor of Vienna

Adolf Ficker (1816-1880), statistician

Anton Josef Gruscha (1820-1911), Archbishop of Vienna

Christoph Hartung von Hartungen (1849-1917), physician

Carl Haslinger (1816-1868), music publisher

Gustav Heider (1819-1897), Art History

Joseph Hellmesberger (1828-1893), Kapellmeister (chapel master)

Hyrtl Joseph (1810-1894), anatomist

Friedrich Kaiser (1814-1874), actor

Theodor von Karajan (1810-1873), German scholar

Alfred von Kremer (1828-1889), orientalist and politician

Kürnberger Ferdinand (1821-1879), writer

Henry of Levitschnigg (1810-1862), writer and journalist

Robert von Lieben (1848-1913), physicist and inventor

Karl Ludwig von Littrow (1811-1877), Astronomer

Titu Maiorescu (1840-1917), Romanian Prime Minister

Johann Nestroy (1801-1862), actor, poet

Ignaz von Plener (1810-1908), Prime Minister of Austria

Johann Nepomuk Prix (1836-1894), Mayor of Vienna

Benedict Randhartinger (1802-1893), Kapellmeister (conductor)

Friedrich Rochleder (1819-1874), chemist

Wilhelm Scherer (1841-1886), German scholar

Anton Schmerling (1805-1893), lawyer and politician

Leopold Schrötter, Ritter von Kristelli (1837-1908) , doctor (laryngologist) and social medicine

Johann Gabriel Seidl (1804-1875), lyricist of the Austrian imperial anthem "God save, God defend our Emperor, our country!" ("may God save and protect our good Emperor Francis")

Daniel Spitzer (1835-1893), author

Eduard Strauss (1835-1916), composer and conductor

Franz von Thun und Hohenstein (1847-1916), Prime Minister of Cisleithania

Joseph Unger (1828-1913), lawyer and politician

Otto Wagner (1841-1918), architect

Birth year 1850-1899

Othenio Abel (1875-1946), biologist

Ludwig Adamovich, senior (1890-1955), President of the Constitutional Court

Guido Adler (1855-1941), musicologist

Plaque for Altenberg, Beer-Hofmann, Hofmannsthal and Schnitzler

Peter Altenberg (1859-1919), "literary cafe"

Max Wladimir von Beck (1854-1943), Austrian Prime Minister

Richard Beer-Hofmann (1866-1945), writer

Julius Bittner (1874-1939), composer

Robert Dannenberg (1885-1942), lawyer and politician

Konstantin Dumba (1856-1947), diplomat

August Fournier (1850-1920), historian and politician

Erich Frauwallner (1898-1974), Indologist

Dagobert Frey (1883-1962), art historian

Albert Gessmann (1852-1920), librarian and politician

Raimund Gruebl (1847-1898), Mayor of Vienna

Michael Hainisch (1858-1940), President of the Republic of Austria

Edmund Hauler (1859-1941), classical scholar

Hugo von Hofmannsthal (1874-1929), playwright

Karl Kautsky (1854-1938), philosopher and politician

Hans Kelsen (1881-1973), lawyer, co-designer of the Austrian Federal Constitution

Franz Klein (1854-1926), lawyer and politician

Arthur Krupp (1856-1938), industrialist

Wilhelm Kubitschek (1858-1936), archaeologist and numismatist

Edward Leisching (1858-1938), director of the Museum of Applied Arts in Vienna

Felix from Luschan (1854-1924), doctor, anthropologist, explorer, archaeologist and ethnographer

Eugene Margaretha (1885-1963), lawyer and politician

Tomáš Garrigue Masaryk (1850-1937), founder and president of Czechoslovakia

Alexius Meinong (1853-1920), philosopher

Lise Meitner (1878-1968), nuclear physicist

Ludwig von Mises (1881-1973), economist

Paul Morgan (1886-1938), actor

Max von Oberleithner (1868-1935), composer and conductor

Paul Pisk Amadeus (1893-1990), Composer

Gabriele Possanner (1860-1940), physician

Przibram Hans Leo (1874-1944), zoologist

Przibram Karl (1878-1973), physicist

Josef Redlich (1869-1936), lawyer and politician

Elise Richter (1865-1943), Romance languages

Joseph Baron Schey of Koromla (1853-1938), legal scholar

Arthur Schnitzler (1862-1931), writer, playwright

Julius Schnitzler (1865-1939), physician

Erwin Schrödinger (1887-1961), physicist, 1933 Nobel Prize for Physics

Birth year 1900-1949

Ludwig Adamovich, Jr. ( born 1932 ), President of the Austrian Constitutional Court

Christian Broda (1916-1987), lawyer and politician

Engelbert Broda (1910-1983), physicist, chemist

Thomas Chorherr (*1932), journalist and newspaper editor

Magic Christian ( born 1945 ), magic artist and designer

Felix Czeike (1926-2006), historian

Albert Drach (1902-1995), writer

Paul Edwards (1923-2004), philosopher

Caspar Einem (born 1948), Austrian Minister of Interior, Minister of Transport

Ernst Federn (1914-2007), psychoanalyst

Friedrich Heer (1916-1983), writer, historian

Georg Knepler (1906-2003), musicologist

Walter Kohn (b. 1923), physicist, 1998 Nobel Prize for Chemistry

Paul Felix Lazarsfeld (1901-1976), sociologist

Lucian O. Meysels (1925-2012), journalist and nonfiction author

Liliana Nelska (born 1946 ), actress

Erwin Ringel (1921-1994), physician, advocate of Individual Psychology

Ernst Topitsch (1919-2003), philosopher and sociologist

Milan Turković (*1939), Austrian-Croatian wind blower and conductor

Hans Weigel (1908-1991), writer

Erich Wilhelm (1912-2005), Protestant superintendent in Vienna

Year of birth from 1950

Gabriel Barylli (*1957 ), writer and actor

Christiane Druml (b. 1955), lawyer and bioethicist

Paul Chaim Eisenberg (born 1950), Chief Rabbi of the Jewish Community Vienna

Paul Gulda (b. 1961), pianist

Martin Haselboeck (born 1954), organist

Peter Stephan Jungk (*1952), writer

Markus Kupferblum (b. 1964), director

Niki List (1956 - 2009) , film director

Miki Malör (born 1957), theater maker and performer

Paulus Manker (born 1958), actor and director

Andreas Mailath-Pokorny (* 1959), Vienna Councillor for Culture and Science

Doron Rabinovici (*1961), writer

Clemens Unterreiner (born 1977), opera singer, soloist and ensemble member of the Vienna State Opera

de.wikipedia.org/wiki/Akademisches_Gymnasium

0.Caritas Pakistan Karachi distributed relief items among 100 families of poor laborers and migrants affected by drought at Union Council 1, Gadap Town, and District Malir Karachi on December 18, 2018.

Chawri Bazar

Pictures taken while riding in a rickshaw, therefore they are not as sharp as I would like.

Chawri Bazar is a specialized wholesale market of brass, copper and paper products. Established in 1840, with a hardware market, it was the first wholesale market of Old Delhi it lies to the west of Jama Masjid in Delhi, lies. It can be reached by taking the street just near the middle projection of Jama Masjid's western (rear) wall. It was accessible via the Chawri Bazar underground station of the Delhi Metro.

Once popularly known for its dancing girls and courtesans in the 19th century, frequented by nobility and rich alike. After the advent of British as the tawaif culture faded out, subsequently prostitutes came to occupy the upper floors of the market. This eventually led to the area becoming hub of criminality and thus the Delhi Municipal Committee evicted them from the area, all together, the street is named after a Marathi word chawri, which means meeting place. The street got this name mainly because here a 'sabha' or meeting would take place in front of a noble's house and he would try settling the disputes before it would reach the emperor. A second reason is probably that a gathering used to get organized when a respected dancer performed and showed the finer nuances of her skill. The whole ambience of the street however got changed after the 1857 war when British destroyed many huge mansions of the nobles.

Today, Chawri Bazaar is a very busy road as laborers with their laden backs, cars, rickshaws, scooters and walkers almost battle for the passage during the peak market hours. Again it is also a wholesale market but you will be allowed to purchase a brass or copper idol of Lord Vishnu, Buddha and others. The shops also keep many useful items like jewelry boxes, vases, pots and oil lamps. However, at present Chawri Bazar is more known as the wholesale market of paper products than copper or brass. From beautiful wedding cards to attractive wallpapers to nice greetings to any types of papers required for any use, everything is available here in retail as well as in wholesale. Though the whole process is very exhausting but it will be a day to remember, as you will definitely enjoy it.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chawri_Bazaar

Workers in a glass factory.

Credit : ILO/Apex Image

Date : 2009/07

Country : United Arab Emirates

Laborers work on building street infrastructure.

Credit : ILO/Apex Image

Date : 2011/07

Country : Kuwait

Golden Gate Park's new citizens drawing their daily Rations.

Harper's Weekly May 19, 1906

The Human Drama at San Francisco

The Long Day

The Eighteenth of April in San Francisco

by Cecil Chard

“It is extraordinary how cheerfully we are all accepting the inevitable. Millionaires, shop girls, day laborers, Chinamen — we stand and receive rations. For the time being, we are at city of beggars, but food is plentiful, and now we are able to procure drinking water.” —from the author’s letter

Morning

We had been to the opera the night before to hear Caruso and Fremstad in “Carmen”. The audience was a brilliant one, the Grand Opera House crowded to the roof. We saw familiar faces everywhere and smiled in greeting, with a careless assurance of seeing them all again, on the morrow perhaps. After the opera, we went to the Palm Garden of the Palace Hotel, and lingered over our ices, comparing Fremstad to Calve, with a deep earnestness which we waste upon immaterial things. Then we strolled homeward through the silent streets, commenting on the quiet, star lit beauty of the night, and finally we dropped to sleep with the haunting measures of Bizet’s music in our ears.

There was no beginning to the tragedy. Peaceful slumber was exchanged, by a process too swift for thought, for chaos. One instance of rigid suspense, the struggle of a dreamer in the grip of a horrible nightmare, and then a leap to consciousness, the fierce realization of danger. A thunderous roar is in the ears, so deafening that it is hard to distinguish the crash of furniture, the fall of pictures from the wall; there is a sickening duration of motion, walls, floor, ceiling rock and sway. Everything that a moment before had been inert and motionless is suddenly possessed with hideous life. Books are flying forward from the shelves, plaster fills the air, the chandeliers twist and drop, a piano moves across a wide space with a jingle of notes. In every familiar objects is the threat of death. Fear is the only sensation left in the universe that wheels and shakes like a storm tossed vessel. And escape to the street seems for a moment beyond the wildest hope! Over fallen furniture we go, bare feet cut by splintered glass, hammering at doors that resist, to the rooms from which the best beloved must be dragged, half fainting or paralyzed with fright – and down, down, out of the house.

To gain the street is only to encounter new perils. Here, too, instantaneous terror springs to life. A dreadful grimace controls the familiar faces of the little world we know. Safety is nowhere. It is raining bricks and chimneys, the towers of St. Dominic’s are swaying against the high blue of the sky. The next Instant the air is thick with the dust of flying fragments. We see is each other and run, blindly, madly, but the ground under our feet rises up, the great paving blocks sink – a little low building to which we would go for shelter slides back a foot. Three blocks away, up the steep hills, is a public park, and here at last we pause and take a refuge, a crowd of panic stricken, breathless, speechless people. We wait for a few minutes and unspeakable dread for what may come next. Renewed shock sends us higher up, and at last we relax and stand trembling in the chill morning air.

As in all instances even have terrible tragedy, the moment is not without its humor, grotesque and grim. People have sprung from their beds, they have seized anything in their wild flight; they stand in excited groups as unconscious as children of their remarkable appearance. One woman has had the sleeve of her night dress torn from her shoulder, her feet are bare, she describes her experiences to a group of men. She is quite evidently a woman of refinement, her gestures are quiet, her voice is sweet, she is quite self-possessed. We stand close together, a group of absolute strangers, and smile at each other in attempted courage, with stiff lips. The world stands still again, all that is left of that familiar world, but all sense of security is gone.

From the high hill on which we stand we can see the splendid city stretching to the foothills, and we try to reassure ourselves but sick despair grips us. The sky is dun-colored, and through a pile of smoke and dust the sun burns red.

The city looks like a besieged town, shattered by shot and shell. Is that the dome of City Hall we see, hanging like a birdcage over the fallen walls. What has happened to that row of houses one street below us? Their brick foundations are cracked in every direction, the empty window frames sling crookedly against beams that have snapped off short. Here are a roof has fallen in, there the side of a house hangs into the street; a flight of granite steps stands far out into the sidewalk, the door to which they once led has sunk 5 feet below. The spaces between the houses is a tangle of twisted wires of tipsy telegraph poles.

And what a strange light is everywhere – sunlight through a yellow haze, a heavy mist. – And below us – is it mist or steam that rises thick and curiously dark as from a huge cauldron. Now the sun is obscured, the distance is blotted out, and the black mist moves, rises – something leaps up, shines like a sword blade. From someone in our little crowd comes one word in an awed whisper: “Fire!”

Noon

The morning has gone, somehow the interminable hours have dragged away. The air is stifling, the heat intense, but, mercifully, there is no wind. At the merest breath of air we shudder and turn our eyes to the curtain of smoke that hangs across the sky and hides from us the extent of our misfortune. Nevertheless, realization of the magnitude of the disaster deepens from hour to hour. We know that the fire rages in twenty places, that men are fighting it desperately without the water for which we already thirst.

With every moment some new peril is revealed. The live wires of the trolley lines have dropped into the street, there is a penetrating odor of escaping gas. A man clatters by on horseback, shouting: “martial law has been declared – the regulars are out; light no fires in the houses – by order of General Funston.”

From the first hour there has been no water. There is a run on bakers and groceries for provisions — bread — candles, tinned meet, soda water. The men serve their customers on floors swimming with oil, tomato catsup, wine, and broken glass. They do not ask exorbitant prices. In many cases they give without demanding payment. Instances of extortion are rare except for conveyances with which to remove invalids and household effects from the region of greatest danger.

It is incredible with what swiftness rumors become facts, and still time creeps along on leaden feet, though occurrences multiply and the experiences of a lifetime are crowded into an hour. We have eaten nothing since the night before, but we know no sensation of hunger. The fate of those who are nearest and dearest is still shrouded in darkness. There is no way to discover it – we are cut off from the world!

When from time to time a smoke-blackened figure approaches it is only to report further calamity. This or that public building is gone, one street after another destroyed; now the fire has engulfed a whole section. Soldiers and firemen, millionaires and thieves are fighting desperately. Every now and then there is a terrific explosion. They are blowing up whole blocks with dynamite in the vain hope of saving the city.

The most extraordinary factor in this unprecedented experience is a general calmness, the self-control exhibited. Perhaps the earthquake has exhausted her powers of sensation. Faces show the strain, but there is no complaint. The lesson has been too soul-searching in it’s effect. All have learned the value of mere possessions. They strive to save them instinctively, but failing, they hear with entire composure, that fortune, home, factory, offices, have been swept away. The streets grow more and more crowded as the fire drives the refugees to the hills. A never ending stream of vehicles passes, motors flash by, carriages, express wagons, undertakers’ wagons, and ice carts laden with people and their hastily snatched belongings rumble on. It is pitiable to see solitary old women tottering along under loads that would not tax the strength of a child. Women in opera cloaks drag trunks along the earthquake torn pavements. Bands of Chinese, dazed and helpless, drift along aimlessly. It is incredible what foolish things people have seized and still cling too. It is related that in the fall of the Emporium, a huge structure on Market Street, a man was only held back by force from the blazing ruins. He struggled in the arms of his captors, protesting that he had lost his hat, that he must find his hat. One woman has a large birdcage from which the birds have flown. Whole families pass, in one instance a pet donkey is being led along, free from burden, while even the child in arms clutches a handkerchief of treasures.

The unfortunate have lost their wits. The ring of the ambulance bells and the toot of the automobiles that have been impressed into the service of the Red Cross hardly scatter the crowds, that move on, talking, gesticulating, in wildest excitement. There is little to be done, but that little is accomplished with immense risk and difficulty. Every nerve, every sense is strained for the latest word from those who return, like exhausted soldiers from the front. When will this refuge be declared unsafe, when will we be compelled to move on. The stories that are whispered in low tones, so that the general multitude may not be made more anxious, are harrowing. Stories of women wandering into the ruins, clasping dead children in their arms, of men gone mad, a fireman crushed, of sick and wounded crushed under falling walls, stories of soldiers who have exceeded their orders, of unfortunate civilians who, upon a refusal to leave their treasures, have been shot. They tell, too, of the swift retribution that overtakes those who, under the cover of the prevailing excitement, attempt to rob, to loot, or even to touch the possessions of others. In one place the bodies of a thieves lie where the bullets have dropped them.

And as the sun sank slowly in the west the huge clouds of smoke that all day had obscured the scene, changed to rose color, and, in the reversal of all things, the day that had been darkened by the smoke was exchanged gradually for the wild illumination of the night.

Night

The terraced hillside park had the look of a bivouac. Nondescript shelters, made of blankets, of tablecloths, spread on broom sticks, of women’s opera wraps, of valuable Indian rugs protected those who were fortunate enough to have them. Many had covers and pillows, those who had nothing lay on the ground, or on the broad stone steps along the park walkways. There was not a murmur to be heard, only a child wailed loudly for a forgotten doll. Speculation, even, had given way to a stoical indifference. People spoke little, in low tones. The stillness was acute. Overawed by the terrible magnificence of the spectacle being enacted in the east and along the whole plain to the southern horizon, it was, strangely enough, possible for one to think, to form plans, even to hope– while the work of wholesale annihilation went on.

Nature now and then indulges in pure melodrama. A sea of liquid fire lay beneath us, the sky above it seemed to burn at white heat, deepening into gold, into orange, spreading into a fierce glare. The smoke and gathered into one gigantic cloud that hung motionless, sharply outlined against a vast field of exquisite starry blue. The streets were caverns of darkness, but here in there, from the impenetrable gloom, three or four houses seem to start out, like an illuminated card every cornice, every window shining with reflected blaze.

And as the night advanced it grew cold, and men and women walked up and down between the lines of sleepers, stretching their stiff limbs. Even at midnight, the attempt to sleep was abandoned. Eyes, bloodshot, with weariness and the pain from the constant rain of cinders, tried to turn away from the fire, but it held them with dreadful fascination. How it slipped in and out, flowing like a river, engulfing here a church, there a block of houses! A steeple, flaring high like a torch, toppled and fell in a shower of sparks. The strong square of an office building, black one instant against that ever moving stream of fire, flush the next, shot through and through with flame.

The fire burned on and destroyed and blackened, but it kindled a flame that illuminated the Western world —the spark of a generous kindness that lives in the hearts of the multitude. This is been fanned into a fire at which the victims of this great disaster may find warmth and renewed courage. Hope remains and an undaunted spirit. The eyes that have watched ceaselessly through the night look out over a field of desolation, and, without flinching, face the dawn of another day.

Laborers in a cold store where potato is stored.

Production Date: 1909

Source Type: Postcard

Printer, Publisher, Photographer: Unknown

Postmark: July ??, 1909, Bovill, Idaho

Collection: Steven R. Shook

Remarks: This postcard photograph appears to show a portable log yarder, on skids, with two drums. The postcard was likely homemade, and was postmarked in Bovill, Latah County, Idaho, suggesting that it was taken in or around Bovill.

The yarder may be located at a lumber mill given the fact that stickered lumber that is air drying is visible behind the yarder. Alternatively, the yarder may be associated with a portable sawmill.

The message on the reverse reads: "Hello = how you vas I ben perty gud now already. you can see me he so long I ben

Hiney Beecroft

Copyright 2014. Some rights reserved. The associated text may not be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without prior written permission of Steven R. Shook.

GREAT SUMMIT TUNNEL OF THE SIERRA NEVADA

"Beneath this plaque the first transcontinental railroad traversed the mighty Sierra Nevada Range. The 1659 foot long summit tunnel took over 15 months of Chinese muscle and sweat to build. The Chinese painstakingly hand drilled, then blasted the granite rock with black powder and newly invented nitroglycerine. A vertical shaft took 85 days to complete and allowed tunnel construction to proceed from the center as well as from the portals. The most difficult obstacle facing the Central Pacific Railroad was overcome when the tunnel was completed in August 1867. The first passenger train passed through the tunnel on June 18, 1868. The last train went through in 1993."

Dedicated August 7, 1999

Chief Truckee Chapter No. 3691

E. Clampus Vitus

From an article in the L.A. Times by Gordon H. Chang, May 10, 2019 (on the 150th anniversary of the first transcontinental railroad):

". . . To get to the High Sierra, Chinese workers cut through dense forests, filled deep ravines, constructed long trestles and built enormous retaining walls — some of which remain intact today. All work was done by hand using carts, shovels and picks but no machinery.

"The greatest challenge was to push the line through the Sierra summit. Solid granite peaks soared to 14,000 feet in elevation. The railroad bed snaked through passes at more than 7,000 feet. The men who came from humid south China labored through two of the worst winters on record, surviving in caverns dug beneath the snow.

"They blasted out 15 tunnels, the longest nearly 1,700 feet. To speed up the carving of the tunnels, the Chinese laborers worked from several directions. After opening portals along the rock face on either side of the mountain, they dug an 80-foot shaft down to the estimated midway point. From there, they carved out toward the portals, doubling the rate of progress by tunneling from both sides. It still took two years to accomplish the task.

"The Chinese workers were paid 30% to 50% less than their white counterparts and were given the most dangerous work. In June 1867, they protested. Three-thousand workers along the railroad route went on strike, demanding wage parity, better working conditions and shorter hours. At the time it was the largest worker action in American history. The railroad refused to negotiate but eventually raised the Chinese workers’ pay, though not to parity.

"After the Sierra, the Chinese workers faced the blistering heat of the Nevada and Utah deserts, yet they drove ahead at an astonishing rate.

"As they approached the meeting point with the Union Pacific, thousands of them laid down a phenomenal 10 miles of track in less than 24 hours, a record that has never been equaled. A Civil War officer who witnessed the drama declared that the Chinese were 'just like an army marching over the ground and leaving the track behind.'

"Progress came at great cost: Many Chinese laborers died along the Central Pacific route. The company kept no records of deaths. But soon after the line was completed, Chinese civic organizations retrieved an estimated 1,200 bodies along the route and sent them home to China for burial. . ."

[From an article in the L.A. Times entitled "Remember the Chinese immigrants who built America's first transcontinental railroad."]

Union workers taking part in the 2017 Labor Day Parade at La Crosse, Wisconsin.

Persistent URL: floridamemory.com/items/show/67996

Local call number: C008612

Title: Laborers thinning celery plants - Belle Glade

Date: November 20, 1947

Physical descrip: 1 photoprint - b&w - 4 x 4 in.

Series Title: Department of Commerce Collection

Repository: State Library and Archives of Florida

500 S. Bronough St., Tallahassee, FL, 32399-0250 USA, Contact: 850.245.6700, Archives@dos.myflorida.com

Among the laborers at the Department of the Interior is an intelligent colored man, Paul Jennings, who was born a slave on President Madison's estate, in Montpelier, Va., in 1799. His reputed father was Benjamin Jennings, an English trader there; his mother, a slave of Mr. Madison, and the granddaughter of an Indian. Paul was a "body servant" of Mr. Madison, till his death, and afterwards of Daniel Webster, having purchased his freedom of Mr. Madison. His character for sobriety, truth, and fidelity, is unquestioned; and he was a daily witness of interesting events, I have thought some of his recollections were worth writing down in almost his own language.

~JBR, From the Preface to "A Colored Man's Reminiscences of James Madison" by Paul Jennings

Paul Jennings was James Madison's enslaved manservant. He was part of the Madison household staff at the White House, and was Mr. Madison's personal attendant during his retirement and was present at his death at Montpelier. Jennings began his life as a slave on the Virginia plantation of a U.S. president, and ended it as a free man, employed by the U.S. government, and living in a thriving racially-mixed community in the nation's capitol city.

Paul Jennings died at home in May of 1874, bequeathing a house and prized property in northwest Washington, D.C. to his sons John and Franklin, a gentle close to a long and eventful life with many chapters.

2012年1月22日 宁波象山西泽 。中国农历腊月二十八，海边，养殖户们冒着刺骨的寒风在鱼塘打捞鱼苗，干完后就回家过年。

MINOLTA TC-1 /Kodak T-max400 film / Epson V700

daily labor

Local Accession Number: 06_11_004323

Title: Men's and boys' clothing

Genre: Stereographs; Photomechanical prints

Date issued: 1893-1920 (inferred)

Physical description: 1 photomechanical print on stereo card : stereograph, halftone ; 9 x 18 cm.

General notes: Title from printed caption on verso.; No. 9.; Part of series: Sears, Roebuck & Co., Chicago, Ill.

Date notes: Date range supplied by cataloger based on the founding date of Sears, Roebuck & Company.

Subjects: Mail-order businesses; Factories; Laborers; Clothing industry ; Sears, Roebuck and Company

Collection: Harper Stereograph Collection

Location: Boston Public Library, Print Department

Shelf locator: Sears Roebuck

Rights: Rights status not evaluated

Persistent URL: digital.lib.muohio.edu/u?/tradecards,4709

Subject (TGM): Children & animals; Child laborers; Farm life; Agricultural laborers; Cattle herding; Grocery stores;

Photographer: Robert J. Kost

Afghan day laborers attend English classes at Forward Operating Base Geronimo's schoolhouse in Helmand province, Afghanistan, July 13, 2010. The men are required to attend school as part of the day laborer program.

Local Accession Number: 06_11_004464

Title: Boring tools in operation

Genre: Stereographs; Photographic prints

Date issued: 1850-1920 (approximate)

Physical description: 1 photographic print on stereo card : stereograph ; 10 x 18 cm.

General notes: Title from diagram caption on verso.; No. 106.

Date notes: Date supplied by cataloger.

Subjects: Oil well drilling rigs; Drilling & boring machinery; Laborers

Collection: Harper Stereograph Collection

Location: Boston Public Library, Print Department

Shelf locator: Misc.

Rights: Rights status not evaluated

I bought this original, antique photograph several years ago from a dealer. Neither the photographer, nor the subjects in this shot were identified, but this image moves me every time I see it.

The girl standing immediately to the right of the horse's head has dark circles under her eyes, and her somber, exhausted expression speaks of a time when children labored as adults. However, the little girl on her left, and the girls sitting at the bottom-right, appear to be enjoying themselves!

The handsome, white-bearded gentleman at the left has such a kindly expression. It's hard to tell if they were an extended family out for a day of berry picking, or if they were hired laborers.

This outstanding image is beautifully detailed, with gorgeous exposure, lights and darks. It's one of my treasured photographs, and I just wanted to share it. Hope you enjoy it as much as I do!

Chawri Bazar

Pictures taken while riding in a rickshaw, therefore they are not as sharp as I would like.

Chawri Bazar is a specialized wholesale market of brass, copper and paper products. Established in 1840, with a hardware market, it was the first wholesale market of Old Delhi it lies to the west of Jama Masjid in Delhi, lies. It can be reached by taking the street just near the middle projection of Jama Masjid's western (rear) wall. It was accessible via the Chawri Bazar underground station of the Delhi Metro.

Once popularly known for its dancing girls and courtesans in the 19th century, frequented by nobility and rich alike. After the advent of British as the tawaif culture faded out, subsequently prostitutes came to occupy the upper floors of the market. This eventually led to the area becoming hub of criminality and thus the Delhi Municipal Committee evicted them from the area, all together, the street is named after a Marathi word chawri, which means meeting place. The street got this name mainly because here a 'sabha' or meeting would take place in front of a noble's house and he would try settling the disputes before it would reach the emperor. A second reason is probably that a gathering used to get organized when a respected dancer performed and showed the finer nuances of her skill. The whole ambience of the street however got changed after the 1857 war when British destroyed many huge mansions of the nobles.

Today, Chawri Bazaar is a very busy road as laborers with their laden backs, cars, rickshaws, scooters and walkers almost battle for the passage during the peak market hours. Again it is also a wholesale market but you will be allowed to purchase a brass or copper idol of Lord Vishnu, Buddha and others. The shops also keep many useful items like jewelry boxes, vases, pots and oil lamps. However, at present Chawri Bazar is more known as the wholesale market of paper products than copper or brass. From beautiful wedding cards to attractive wallpapers to nice greetings to any types of papers required for any use, everything is available here in retail as well as in wholesale. Though the whole process is very exhausting but it will be a day to remember, as you will definitely enjoy it.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chawri_Bazaar

Afghan day laborers pick up trash right outside Forward Operating Base Geronimo, Helmand province, Afghanstan, as part of their work duties, July 14, 2010.

Chawri Bazar

Pictures taken while riding in a rickshaw, therefore they are not as sharp as I would like.

Chawri Bazar is a specialized wholesale market of brass, copper and paper products. Established in 1840, with a hardware market, it was the first wholesale market of Old Delhi it lies to the west of Jama Masjid in Delhi, lies. It can be reached by taking the street just near the middle projection of Jama Masjid's western (rear) wall. It was accessible via the Chawri Bazar underground station of the Delhi Metro.

Once popularly known for its dancing girls and courtesans in the 19th century, frequented by nobility and rich alike. After the advent of British as the tawaif culture faded out, subsequently prostitutes came to occupy the upper floors of the market. This eventually led to the area becoming hub of criminality and thus the Delhi Municipal Committee evicted them from the area, all together, the street is named after a Marathi word chawri, which means meeting place. The street got this name mainly because here a 'sabha' or meeting would take place in front of a noble's house and he would try settling the disputes before it would reach the emperor. A second reason is probably that a gathering used to get organized when a respected dancer performed and showed the finer nuances of her skill. The whole ambience of the street however got changed after the 1857 war when British destroyed many huge mansions of the nobles.

Today, Chawri Bazaar is a very busy road as laborers with their laden backs, cars, rickshaws, scooters and walkers almost battle for the passage during the peak market hours. Again it is also a wholesale market but you will be allowed to purchase a brass or copper idol of Lord Vishnu, Buddha and others. The shops also keep many useful items like jewelry boxes, vases, pots and oil lamps. However, at present Chawri Bazar is more known as the wholesale market of paper products than copper or brass. From beautiful wedding cards to attractive wallpapers to nice greetings to any types of papers required for any use, everything is available here in retail as well as in wholesale. Though the whole process is very exhausting but it will be a day to remember, as you will definitely enjoy it.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chawri_Bazaar

Advertisement showing the long three-story, brick factory occupied by Robert Wood’s iron works at 1126 Ridge Avenue. The central portion of the building looms a few feet over the wings, and is adorned by tall, narrow windows on the second story, with a decorative cornice topped by a statue, bell cupola, and advertising flag. Statues of a lion and two dogs adorn an overhang near the open doorway of the iron foundry inside this central portion, under which a man and woman enter the office and warerooms. Visible inside the factory are several men at a forge, along with laborers working in the left and right wings. A man driving a horse-drawn company carriage emerges from the right wing. Four laborers load a lion statue into a cart on Ridge Avenue. Several boxes, addressed to "Mobile, Aa.," "Havana," "Jackson," "San Francisco, Ca.," "Smith & Co., St. Louis," "Cincinnati, Oo.," "Jones & Co., New Orleans," are scattered in the street nearby. Two laborers load (or unload) an iron railing from a covered cart in the foreground. Men working outdoors with unidentified piles, and additional brick factory buildings are visible in the background. A trompe-l’œil frame border surrounds the image.

Collection: Willard Dickerman Straight and Early U.S.-Korea Diplomatic Relations, Cornell University Library

Title: [Western man and Korean laborer resting by statues]

Date: 1905

Place: Asia: South Korea: Seoul

Type: Photographs

Description: When a group of Americans with Alice Roosevelt visited Korea in 1905, they probably toured the Yi Dynasty kings' tombs. Regarding the phyisical setting of the scene, the 'Kings of Yi Dynasty were guarded in death by stone warriors and animals--a custom that was presumably introduced into Korea during the Silla period from China.' Source: Kim, Chewon. Seoul, 1969, p. 129.

Identifier: 1260.61.071.02

Persistent URI: http://hdl.handle.net/1813.001/5xps

There are no known U.S. copyright restrictions on this image. The digital file is owned by the Cornell University Library which is making it freely available with the request that, when possible, the Library be credited as its source.

We had some help with the geocoding from Web Services by Yahoo!

A boy poses with pile of bamboos in Punjab Pakistan

Local Accession Number: 06_11_002264

Title: Cutting the sugar cane, Porto Rico

Genre: Stereographs; Photographic prints

Created/Published: Meadville, Pa. ; New York, N.Y. ; Portland, Oregon ; London, Eng. ; Sydney, Aus. : Keystone View Company

Copyright date: 1910

Physical description: 1 photographic print on a curved stereo card : stereograph ; 9 x 18 cm.

General notes: Image caption: Cutting the Sugar Cane, Rio Pedro, Porto Rico; No. 10264; Title from printed caption on verso; Copyright 1910, by B.L. Singley.

Subjects: Sugar plantations; Sugarcane; Harvesting; Agricultural laborers

Collection: Stereographs

Location: Boston Public Library, Print Department

Shelf locator: Foreign Views

Rights: No known copyright restrictions.

Afghan day laborers work to fill sandbags right outside Forward Operating Base Geronimo, Helmand province, Afghanistan, July 14, 2010.

Photographed at the "Terracotta Warriors of the First Emperor" exhibit at the Pacific Science Center in Seattle, Washington.

Photographed at the "Terracotta Warriors of the First Emperor" exhibit at the Pacific Science Center in Seattle, Washington.

Chawri Bazar

Pictures taken while riding in a rickshaw, therefore they are not as sharp as I would like.

Chawri Bazar is a specialized wholesale market of brass, copper and paper products. Established in 1840, with a hardware market, it was the first wholesale market of Old Delhi it lies to the west of Jama Masjid in Delhi, lies. It can be reached by taking the street just near the middle projection of Jama Masjid's western (rear) wall. It was accessible via the Chawri Bazar underground station of the Delhi Metro.

Once popularly known for its dancing girls and courtesans in the 19th century, frequented by nobility and rich alike. After the advent of British as the tawaif culture faded out, subsequently prostitutes came to occupy the upper floors of the market. This eventually led to the area becoming hub of criminality and thus the Delhi Municipal Committee evicted them from the area, all together, the street is named after a Marathi word chawri, which means meeting place. The street got this name mainly because here a 'sabha' or meeting would take place in front of a noble's house and he would try settling the disputes before it would reach the emperor. A second reason is probably that a gathering used to get organized when a respected dancer performed and showed the finer nuances of her skill. The whole ambience of the street however got changed after the 1857 war when British destroyed many huge mansions of the nobles.

Today, Chawri Bazaar is a very busy road as laborers with their laden backs, cars, rickshaws, scooters and walkers almost battle for the passage during the peak market hours. Again it is also a wholesale market but you will be allowed to purchase a brass or copper idol of Lord Vishnu, Buddha and others. The shops also keep many useful items like jewelry boxes, vases, pots and oil lamps. However, at present Chawri Bazar is more known as the wholesale market of paper products than copper or brass. From beautiful wedding cards to attractive wallpapers to nice greetings to any types of papers required for any use, everything is available here in retail as well as in wholesale. Though the whole process is very exhausting but it will be a day to remember, as you will definitely enjoy it.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chawri_Bazaar

Advertisement depicting the large factory’s several industrial buildings, sheds, and fenced yard near a busy street and sidewalk. Workers attend to a maze of drying lines with hanging leather pieces; delivery carts traverse the yard and depart through the gate under the sign "McNeely & Co."; and a laborer uses a horse-drawn cart to collect coal from a mound beside the main building. Pedestrians, including a woman and boy, stroll and converse on the sidewalk. In the street, an African American couple push a filled handcart and a crowded horse-drawn omnibus from the "Frankford Road - Fourth Street" line passes by. The McNeely family operated a leather manufactory in Philadelphia from 1830 until the early 20th century.

“Some Tamil stevedores on the waterfront at Penang Straits settlement. See their bailing hook and shoulder pads”

another laborer from the construction site.

苗栗老照片

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八千多位從台灣志願到日本製造飛機的少年工的故事

台湾高座会６０周年記念大会

留日台湾高座会, 　台湾で少年工大会開催

台湾高座会 Radio

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www.itechlutions.com/cobrachen/forum/topic.asp?TOPIC_ID=141

悠悠一甲子點點高座情－ 台灣少年工回顧與前瞻. pdf

Documentary SHONENKO, reveals the untold stories of Taiwanese child laborers(Shonenko), from 12 to 14-years-old, who manufactured fighter planes in the Japanese naval arsenals during the Second World War. They left their families, homelands and childhood with the dream of receiving an education. But their dream was to be shattered – first by the war and again by cruel post-war politics in Taiwan, Japan and China.

台灣的少年工故事

〜台湾少年工の物語〜

第二次世界大戦中に台湾から8000余名の少年たちが日本に派遣され、海軍工員として軍用機の生産に従事した。彼らは日本でどのような生活を送り、戦争をどう捉えたのか、そして戦後、異なる社会や体制下でいかに生き抜いていったのか。「緑の海平線」は高齢に達した元少年工の記憶を辿りながら、公的な文書の残されることのなかった東アジアの歴史を記録したドキュメンタリーである。

(消息來源:中央廣播電台 2007/11/29 撰稿‧編輯：呂欣憓 新聞引據：採訪)

　　由台灣女導演郭亮吟的工作團隊花了4年時間所拍攝的紀錄片「綠的海平線」即將在台灣時間29日晚上於日本國營電視台NHK放映，片中敘述一群台灣少年在二次大戰期間，被日本政府徵召到日本海軍工廠工作的辛酸故事，這群少年回到台灣之後組成台灣高座會，當年也是被徵召一員的秘書長謝清松回憶起這段往事，雖然辛苦但是並不後悔，他也希望藉著這部片，讓更多台灣人以及日本人，知道他們當年的故事。二次世界大戰期間，日本被美軍強力轟炸，為了打造更強大的武力反擊，日本政府徵召了8千多個台灣少年，到日本海軍工廠製造軍機，懵懵懂懂的少年們搭上船，看到的盡是一望無際的綠色海洋，也邁向了一個未知的遠方。

台灣高座會的秘書長謝清松是1943第一批被徵召的少年，當年的他14歲，為了日本政府提出的誘人條件，包括得到更好的學歷、照顧三餐起居等，義無反顧遠赴異國，謝清松想起這段往事，透露了點惆悵卻又懷念的語氣，他曾經分別到過中島工廠、神奈川縣的高座工廠、名古屋的三菱工廠，替海軍軍機組裝引擎頭，日本的訓練非常嚴格，加上天氣寒冷，常讓這群年輕的孩子們撐不住，但最讓人害怕的，還是美軍不斷的轟炸，謝清松說：『是大概有400台500台左右來，用航空母艦載來的，來的時候用機關槍這樣掃，我已經沒辦法在工廠，就跑，跑的時候就聽到那個槍的聲音打出來的聲音，打打打，就跑到防空壕的時候，那個時候腳都不知道痛。』 1945年，兩顆降落在長崎和廣島的原子彈，結束了這場慘烈的戰爭，日本無條件投降，謝清松感慨的表示，回到台灣之後，又遇上白色恐怖跟228事件，戰爭彷彿從來沒有結束。（編按:新聞原文將神奈川縣誤寫為神耐川縣, 特此更正）

這次郭亮吟的工作團隊把這樣一個大時代的故事拍成紀錄片，除了在台灣播放之外，也將在日本NHK放映，謝清松除了希望讓日本、台灣的觀 眾了解他們的故事之外，也希望時下無法吃苦的台灣年輕人，學習他們當年堅忍的態度。

July 26, 2022 - Bolton Landing, NY - Governor Kathy Hochul delivers remarks at the New York State Laborers Meeting in Bolton Landing. (Mike Groll/Office of Governor Kathy Hochul)

Backstory:

Had a laborer in our house to finish the closet in the bedroom at the end of the year. Turns out, he stole rings (one of which was unique) and had apparently pawned them a day or so before we noticed (hired off of craigslist: this we found out after the fact). The A**hole left his cap. This is a shot of my rendition of vengeance, though not what I feel that I want to do. So, out with the old and in with the new.

Two weeks in NOLA for the mardi gras 2017

Early in 1909, a group of laborers who had organized a club named 'The Tramps' went to the Pythian Theater to see a musical comedy performed by the Smart Set. The comedy included a skit entitled, 'There Never Was and Never Will Be a King Like Me,' about the Zulu Tribe.

That is how Zulu began, as the many stories go...

Years of extensive research by Zulu's staff of historians seem to indicate that Zulu's beginning was much more complicated than that. The earliest signs of organization came from the fact that the majority of these men belonged to a Benevolent Aid Society. Benevolent Societies were the first forms of insurance in the Black community where, for a small amount of dues, members received financial help when sick or financial aid when burying deceased members.

Conversations and interviews with older members also indicate that in that era the city was divided into wards, and each ward had its own group or 'Club.' The Tramps were one such group. After seeing the skit, they retired to their meeting place (a room in the rear of a restaurant/bar in the 1100 block of Perdido Street), and emerged as Zulus. This group was probably made up of members from the Tramps, the Benevolent Aid Society and other ward-based groups.

While the 'Group' marched in Mardi Gras as early as 1901, their first appearance as Zulus came in 1909, with William Story as King.

The group wore raggedy pants, and had a Jubilee-singing quartet in front of and behind King Story. His costume of 'lard can' crown and 'banana stalk' scepter has been well-documented. The Kings following William Story (William Crawford - 1910, Peter Williams - 1912, and Henry Harris - 1914) were similarly attired.

1915 heralded the first use of floats, constructed on a spring wagon, using dry good boxes. The float was decorated with palmetto leaves and moss and carried four Dukes along with the King. That humble beginning gave rise to the lavish floats we see in the Zulu parade today.

Zulu's 2017 Mardi Gras theme is 'Stop the Violence'

Local Accession Number: 06_11_003980

Title: A farmer's family, making hay at Roldal, Norway

Genre: Stereographs; Photographic prints

Created/Published: New York ; London ; Toronto - Canada ; Ottowa - Kansas : Underwood & Underwood, publishers

Copyright date: 1905

Physical description: 1 photographic print on curved stereo card : stereograph ; 9 x 18 cm.

General notes: TItle from item.; Number on item: (32)-632.; Image caption: A farmer's family making hay in a sunny field between the mountains, Roldal, Norway.

Subjects: Haystacks; Farming; Agricultural laborers; Families; Mountains

Collection: Harper Stereograph Collection

Location: Boston Public Library, Print Department

Shelf locator: Norway

Rights: No known copyright restrictions.

Tea production in Sri Lanka, formerly Ceylon, is of high importance to the Sri Lankan economy and the world market. The country is the world's fourth largest producer of tea and the industry is one of the country's main sources of foreign exchange and a significant source of income for laborers. The humidity, cool temperatures, and rainfall in the country's central highlands provide a climate that favors the production of high quality tea. The industry was introduced to the country in 1867 by James Taylor, the British planter who arrived in 1852.

Laborers resting on the cart preparing for the start of the day at about 8am.

Chawri Bazar

Love how the father is the only one wearing a helmet.

Pictures taken while riding in a rickshaw, therefore they are not as sharp as I would like.

Chawri Bazar is a specialized wholesale market of brass, copper and paper products. Established in 1840, with a hardware market, it was the first wholesale market of Old Delhi it lies to the west of Jama Masjid in Delhi, lies. It can be reached by taking the street just near the middle projection of Jama Masjid's western (rear) wall. It was accessible via the Chawri Bazar underground station of the Delhi Metro.

Once popularly known for its dancing girls and courtesans in the 19th century, frequented by nobility and rich alike. After the advent of British as the tawaif culture faded out, subsequently prostitutes came to occupy the upper floors of the market. This eventually led to the area becoming hub of criminality and thus the Delhi Municipal Committee evicted them from the area, all together, the street is named after a Marathi word chawri, which means meeting place. The street got this name mainly because here a 'sabha' or meeting would take place in front of a noble's house and he would try settling the disputes before it would reach the emperor. A second reason is probably that a gathering used to get organized when a respected dancer performed and showed the finer nuances of her skill. The whole ambience of the street however got changed after the 1857 war when British destroyed many huge mansions of the nobles.

Today, Chawri Bazaar is a very busy road as laborers with their laden backs, cars, rickshaws, scooters and walkers almost battle for the passage during the peak market hours. Again it is also a wholesale market but you will be allowed to purchase a brass or copper idol of Lord Vishnu, Buddha and others. The shops also keep many useful items like jewelry boxes, vases, pots and oil lamps. However, at present Chawri Bazar is more known as the wholesale market of paper products than copper or brass. From beautiful wedding cards to attractive wallpapers to nice greetings to any types of papers required for any use, everything is available here in retail as well as in wholesale. Though the whole process is very exhausting but it will be a day to remember, as you will definitely enjoy it.

en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Chawri_Bazaar

Title: Plowing.

Creator: Unknown

Date: 1902

Part Of: Tourist album: Mexico, Arizona, California, Colorado and Utah

Place: Mexico

Description: This is one of 287 photographs in an album entitled, 'Tourist Album: Mexico, Arizona, California, Colorado and Utah.'

Physical Description: 1 photographic print: gelatin silver, part of 1 album (287 gelatin silver prints); 10 x 13 cm on 28 x 35 cm mount

File: ag2000_1304_40a_1_opt.jpg

Rights: Please cite DeGolyer Library, Southern Methodist University when using this file. A high-resolution version of this file may be obtained for a fee. For details see the sites.smu.edu/cul/degolyer/research/permissions/ web page. For other information, contact degolyer@smu.edu.

For more information and to view in high resolution, see: digitalcollections.smu.edu/cdm/ref/collection/mex/id/2407

View the Mexico: Photographs, Manuscripts, and Imprints Collection

Lance Cpl. Tyler B. Underwood, from Bismarck, N.D., searches Wali Mohammad, an Afghan day laborer, before the start of the working day at Forward Operating Base Geronimo, Helmand province, Afghanistan, July 14, 2010. The day laborers are searched each day as a part of roll call.